Escalation Remix
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: His smile was a smile of pretense. Politeness masked the malice and the malice covered the instability, three layers in dimension and benign to all the unassuming eyes. Total crack fic. Crazy!Nathaniel.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Three one-shots. Crappy crack. Disjointed writing, purposeful punctuation and grammar flaws in places. Double entendre title is because...Well, KoЯn lyrics oDo**

**Rated for violence/my morbid sense of humor. For once these one-shots take place in the same continuity, although they're backwards. As in the third chapter happened first and the first chapter happened last. **

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_(hey you hey you devil's little sister)_

He waited until his parents were out.

Amber was asleep and it was well over the time where the metaphorical boundary between late night and early morning blurred, when his parents would be asleep as well anyway, were they not out for the weekend (it was their 20th anniversary how sentimental). Given that fact, perhaps Nathaniel shouldn't have waited.

Crimes committed during such overtly convenient timing were the most suspicious, the most obvious. The ever avid reader of police novel after police novel, Nathaniel knew that well. But that knowledge still didn't stop him.

He closed the book he'd been blindly staring at in the dark and set it gently on the nightstand.

(Perhaps on some level he was aiming to get caught.)

He got out of bed and curled his toes into the shaggy carpet, taking one downy pillow and tucking it under his arm.

(Most, if not all, murderers do, really. They want the recognition.)

He padded down the hallway as silent and determined as a feline in a hunter's crouch, slitted eyes locked on the prey.

(There are few exceptions.)

Amber never slept with the door closed all the way. No, she always kept it open just a little. A crack as slim as a pencil. Nathaniel pushed it open with ease and crept into her room, fingers flexing and readjusting their grip on the pillowcase. He'd been planning this for awhile, probably. Possibly not, possibly he was just fantasizing about it. But when you look at it in perspective, isn't fantasizing the first step in planning anyway?

He lowered his weight onto the edge of her bed, torso turned and eyes following her serene features, only just illuminated by the pale glow of moonlight that leaked in from under the shades. The satin covers rose and fell with each tranquil breath that passed her slightly parted lips. A small trickle of drool dribbled out from the corner of her mouth and left a minute, appleseed sized stain on her pillowcase.

She was sleeping very soundly, blissfully lost in the peaceful depths of slumber. Nathaniel wondered if she was dreaming. What about? Pretty things? Sunny beaches and sparkly jewels?

Too bad he'd have to cut them short.

He smashed the pillow over her face and pressed down with every sinew of wretched vigor.

"Mmph!" Amber awoke instantly, muffled cries of confusion and fright fracturing the still of the atmosphere. Instinctively, she began to struggle. Upper-body trying and failing to thrust up, her hands flailing to strike her attacker (brother). Nathaniel ground his teeth and pressed down harder. He relished in the way she fought so ardently for a life she was doomed to lose. It was already leaving her, which each deprived breath of the oxygen she needed to survive, he was snatching away the future she might've had.

(In the dusty corners of his mind, he briefly wondered if he would've had any nieces or nephews.)

Her fingers found his arms and coiled around them in a vise, her nails nearly breaking his skin as she pushed up against him, pushed futilely to break his grip with everything she had in her. She was genuinely stronger than Nathaniel had expected her to be, and it took a real effort on his part to keep the pillow stuffed into her airways. But the harder you work at something, the more satisfying it is when you attain your objective, right?

When her struggles began to weaken, he shifted the pillow just enough, just so.

Just so he could see her eyes. Wild, utterly terrified aquamarine depths that glistened with moisture and abruptly snapped up to him. She screeched his name into the polyester that shaved away the rest of her years with hushed volumes. Jolting accusation merged with the horror in her eyes. Raw betrayal crowned over every other fleeting emotion. _Why, Nathaniel, why!? How could you!?  
_

His lips spread in the gentlest of brotherly smiles. Heart fluttering with sweet victory, he smiled wider and leaned over to make sure she got a real good look at it. He made sure that his benevolent beaming was the last thing she would ever see as her resistance was exhausted and her fingers fell slack from his arms.

(Oh look, there's blood under her perfectly manicured fingernails. She actually did break the skin.)

Her accusatory eyes clouded over with lifelessness. Still fixed on him but so, so empty. And just a moment ago, they'd been so, so full.

Nathaniel pulled the pillow back and peered at them. Perhaps he should've closed her lids. But he didn't. He stared into the twin blank pupils and dim irises. He reasserted there was nothing left to find in them.

Null, nada, void.

(Double check, always double check. One can never be too certain.)

Little bubbles of laughter rolled form his tongue as he patted her bloated cheek. He then stood up and tucked his pillow back under his arm. He left the room with delicate footfalls and soundlessly closed the door behind him.

But he didn't close it all the way. He left it open just a crack. A crack as slim as a pencil.

After all, Amber would've wanted it that way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I burned myself in home economics once. Probably because that class bored the crap outta me. I just snoozed the whole time and never paid any attention to key instructions. **

**If you are in home ec., please be careful and not sleep the whole time. Because if you do, you're not going to learn. And then you might burn yourself because you missed something important. And for most people, burns are not fun.**

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_(thumbing through the pages of my fantasies i'm above you smiling at you drown drown drown)_

School was letting out in ten minutes. That meant Nathaniel had to be fast.

He quickened his pace to basement, supersize bottle of vegetable oil (unintentionally donated from the ever stocked home ec. classroom) in his grasp. Just to be on the safe side, a layer of paper towel separated the plastic from his fingerprints.

He craned his neck around the doorway and gave the basement a once-over just to assess that it was unoccupied. It was. Perfect. A pleased smirk lifted the corners of Nathaniel's mouth and he twisted the cap off the bottle of vegetable oil. He splashed it on the stairs with rapid, practiced flicks of the wrist. It all splattered in thick, slippery puddles, slowly spreading and promising disaster for anyone who tread on them.

Phase one in order. Onto phase two now, seven minutes left to go.

Nathaniel trotted to the student council room and dumped the empty bottle in the recycling container (he'd have to remember to take that out later, managing the school's recycling was one of his many, many important jobs). He briskly sauntered to his next destination, the teacher's lounge, and put on his best 'please help me face', sheepish smile on his mouth and hesitant eyes gleaming kindly.

"Mr. Faraize?"

The brunette teacher turned to him, styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and jacket draped over his opposite arm. Getting ready to leave, of course. Nathaniel almost felt a little sorry for interrupting the flow of his monotonous routine. "Yes, Nathaniel?"

"Could you tell Castiel to carry the empty cages in the science lab down to the basement? The principal told me to tell him that if he did that, she'd knock off his detention. Sorry to bother you like this, but I got a little sidetracked with something else and I really have to print out the forms for the aquarium field trip." He knew Mr. Farazie would comply. He was the kind of person that didn't say "no" when it came to helping people. He was the type you could kick under the ribs and for god's sake, he would probably look up at you and say "sorry."

"Oh, that's alright. You're not bothering me. I guess I'd better hurry up though, the bell will be ringing any minute now." He offered Nathaniel a brief smile of assurance and shuffled out of the room.

Phase two complete.

Nathaniel hummed softly under his breath, a spring in his step as he strolled down the hall and up to the second floor. He got settled at a computer in the media room across from the science lab and opened the file with the field trip forms. It wasn't an accident that he picked the seat closest to the door. Or that he left said door open.

In another minute or so, Castiel came into his peripheral version, muttering about something or other as he ducked into the science lab. Poor, oblivious creature he was. Nathaniel struggled to choke back his laughter. The anticipation that had been tingling at the back of his skull was now a full on setting that had every atom he was composed of buzzing.

The bell that signaled the end of the day chimed through the halls just as the redhead popped out of the lab, about three or four metal rodent cages balanced haphazardly in his arms. They were stacked one right on top of the other, a visibly bulky load and surely weighing at least fifteen pounds. Seemingly difficult enough to manage downstairs even without the additional pitfall.

Castiel caught him staring and paused in his tentative stride, shooting a glower in kind. "What the hell are you grinning at?"

_Your impending demise._ "Nothing at all." And Nathaniel's grin broadened with just another secret fringe as he turned back to the computer screen.

Phase three unfolded itself in the next forty-eight seconds, with the jarring clamor of metal clanging and scraping on concrete, a series of heavy bumps, and the loud _THUNK_ of something akin to thawing meat being dropped onto a cutting board.

Nathaniel was impressed that the inimical melody managed to carry up three floors so clearly. And how quickly too, Castiel probably hadn't even made it to the fifth step.

He absolutely burned to race down to the basement and inspect the outcome of his handiwork for himself, but painfully resisted. Waited and listened closely for someone else to scope out the din. Because if he could hear it all the way up here, then certainly anyone else in this part of the school would've heard.

But of course, Nathaniel wasn't stupid. Today was Tuesday. And he'd chosen today because no clubs met on Tuesday, he knew teachers' schedules inside and out and knew that most of them never stayed after on Tuesdays, as Tuesdays were generally slow. It could very well just be himself and the principal left in the school and she was a bit (as the elderly tend to be) hard of hearing.

When the ambiance remained free of any urgent yells or screams, Nathaniel decided it was safe enough and eagerly bustled down. He peeked around the open basement door, heart gleefully leaping in his chest at the mess that spilled across the dusty concrete. Broken cages lay scattered to and fro, littered around an equally broken Castiel.

Facedown on the floor, one leg visibly bent out of natural ability, one arm twisted and pinned under his chest. But the best part was the puddle of profusely flooding crimson that pooled around his head like a liquid pillow. His skull must've cracked like an egg against the bowl. Such a cliché allusion to make, but oh so accurate. Unbridled satisfaction rippled through Nathaniel and wrapped him in warm, delightful shivers. Laughter rumbled and swelled in his gut, threatening to escape his tightly closed lips.

More than anything, he wished he could take a picture!

A low, semiconscious groan alerted him to the fact that Castiel wasn't quite dead yet. Surprised though he was, this didn't taint Nathaniel's triumph in the slightest. If anything, it brightened the already brilliant situation. The bastard was suffering, actively gushing away his lifeblood amongst feeble attempts to verbalize his agony. How preciously golden.

Nathaniel would've loved to linger and witness the remainder of Castiel's agonizing moments dwindle away, but on the off chance someone would come this way, he really had to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Somewhat graphic-ish regurgitation in this chapter. If that kinda thing like sicks you out, you probably don't want to read this. A little reminder here too, that this is technically the first chapter and whatnot. S'all just backwards o_e'**

**I've (surprisingly)never really had any flames before. I feel like this might get me flames, since it's all cracky crap and whatnot? Yeah? That's cool with me, you know. If you like wanna flame, but you're not cause you feel too nice, go ahead and incinerate me in a big ol' bonfire. It's okay :3**

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_(i tell my lies and i despise every second i'm with you)_

She. Would. Not. Stop. Needling. Him.

Always careful to come across like she wasn't, but she always was. She would be 'helping' him in the student council room and every time she passed him a paper, she made sure her fingers ever-so-slightly brushed over his. She would make excuses to hang around him, like saying an assignment he knew perfectly well she could handle by herself was actually one she really needed his help on.

She may have had that innocent front, but he'd catch her ogling him with cerulean depths of want and certitude. It didn't matter that Nathaniel had already rejected her, oh no. She thought if she kept up with all her needling that he would just give in and fall for her, and she would get her way.

Such a pleasant, helpful girl Melody was. But so selfish. Her smile was not unlike his own. A polite semblance shielding the infatuation, and the infatuation cloaking the determination to hook her claws into her prize.

But he saw through it easily. It takes a false smiler to know a false smiler, and his layered grin of mendacity was far more practiced than hers.

It was only a matter of time before he would get her to back off permanently. Foolish, needling bitch she was, she provided him with an idea on how to do just that all on her own.

"I think a picnic at the park would be the most romantic date ever," she said one day, seemingly out of nowhere. But of course, she was intentionally cuing him. _Take me out for a picnic, Nathaniel, please? Pretty please? You'll have to eventually, won't you?_

"Oh?" He lifted a brow and looked at her uncertainly, whilst the varicosed seeds took root in his gray matter.

"Sorry," she breathed, lips sheepishly quirking and coral blush dusting her cheeks. "I guess that was pretty random. This romance novel I'm reading has got me a little daydreamy."

And if that's what's got her daydreamy, then it's the crime novels that have gotten him sadistic. "You're funny sometimes, Melody," he chirped genially enough and resumed his imaginary task on a cracked clipboard.

"Would you like to go on a picnic with me?" he asked about a month later with a bashful simper on his visage and resonating hostility beneath it.

Melody was incomprehensible for a moment and the file in her hands fell right out of her grasp. Just like in any cheap, mushy chick flick. How sickly sweet. "Oh! Oops!"

She crouched down and began to push the scattered papers back into it. Nathaniel kneeled down and helped her, for once making sure that it was _his_ fingers that skimmed over_ her_ small, neat hands. Her eyes met his and she pinked, seemingly so, so timid. But he saw the satisfaction in her gaze as easily as he'd seen all of her evasive pretenses. He and satisfaction were in a love/hate relationship, he knew that emotion inside and out. Melody didn't know how to flirt with it properly.

(Or him for that matter.)

"Yes, of course. Is this, ahem, like a date?"

"Yes, like a date." His ginger smile broadened and he helped her up.

"Oh, great," she gasped, flustered and giddy as child in a toy store. "When?"

"Saturday."

Saturday's weather was as pleasant as could be expected. The brisk autumn breeze carried leaves of red, yellow, and orange from place to place. It rustled through the trees and blew through Melody's wavy hair. She was dressed cutely, really. She wore a long-sleeved knit dress and thick, navy tights.

He made the food. She didn't question it because he was Nathaniel and Nathaniel was an amiable, nice guy. Nice guys did things like make all the food.

It was warm food to suit the nip in the air, a thermos of tomato soup and foil-wrapped grilled cheeses to go with. Convenient food, though he would've made anything suffice. He spread a blanket on the grass and they settled atop it comfortably, one sandwich and two bowls split between them. She had a smaller thermos of hot chocolate quite identical to his own, except for the little fact that his was not actually filled with hot chocolate. No, his was empty.

But with each spoonful of liquid tomato, water, sodium, and his special just-for-Melody ingredient; ipecac, his thermos got a little less empty. Every time he supposedly took a drink, he spat every splash of the poisoned soup into it.

Melody jabbered on and on. Chittering and chattering about things he couldn't give two shits about. Blubbering about how romantic he was and how she was so blissfully happy that at last he'd just given her a chance. He was only halfway listening to any of it. He was simply humoring her until the ipecac soaked into her system.

"Do you mind if I ask why you finally changed your mind about me?" she inquired, shy roses unfurling in her cheeks. "You don't have to answer, I'm just curious."

"I'm not sure, really," he breathed a chuckle. "It must've been something you said."

She blinked at him, doe eyes gleaming curiously. His immediate desire was to rip them out of their sockets with his bare fingers.

Then, what he'd been waiting for happened in a matter of moments. And it was every bit of gratifying he'd hoped it was going to be.

A sudden, pitiful yelp was pulled form her pretty lips and she clamped a hand over her mouth. She leaned forward, shoulders hunching as another cry was muffled by her fingers.

"Are you okay?" he asked out of the obligation to feign concern.

She tried to answer him, vomited instead, and couldn't pull her hand away fast enough to expel it all. Thick, putrid rivulets of liquidy stomach contents seeped through her fingers but she choked on most of it. Gagging, she then ripped her hand away from her face. Her head snapped forward as she puked again. She whimpered in between thick, painful spluttering, trying to get her breath back as her puddle of inconsistent, undigested food stained the blanket.

He couldn't help staring at it. Partly out of morbid nature, partly because if he stared at it, it was only going to embarrass her that much more. Her cheeks were puffed and red as she upheaved today's meals a third time, the reeking pool of chunks and soupy fluid widening to the size of a dinner platter.

(It would be rather awkward to explain the stain to his mother later.)

"I'm s-sorry," she choked out, bewilderment and shame in all three wan syllables. Ah, he relished in it. Especially her shame. Tears were streaming from her eyes in ceaseless supply and she kept her head down, her beautiful brunette tresses getting caught up in her own barf. She was so pathetically humiliated that after this disastrous date, Nathaniel doubted Melody would ever be able to look him in the eye again, let alone flirt with him.

"I'll call your parents to come pick you up," he told her with a strenuous effort to keep the mirth out of his tone.


End file.
